In the north-western top the” S” fallen the left that compose the contours of the southern conclusion to the Central American isthmus lies paradise. A flight to Panama City and then another to Bocas Del Toro gets you there quick. But, please, take your time. Panama City’s Casco Viejo is worth at least a night. One of the first cities of the new world, it is a World Heritage Site. In other words, a good glass of wine is not a challenge.

If time only allows for Casco Viejo or the Panama Canal, chose Casco Viejo. If the Panama Canal fascinates you, we recommend Getting to Know the General, one of the greatest drinking buddy essays of all time. If you have ambition, try David McCullough’s The Path Between the Seas.  Unless you are the type who brings zeal to zen, you may find your appetite for 1,000 pages of imperialism, malaria, slavish labor, and muddy triumph has withered as you hover in a hut above clear shallow water, the breeze dismissing your anxieties.

Bocas has surfing, SCUBA, beer, food, white sand, blue water, blah, blah, blah. Mostly, like so much of the Caribbean, it makes a living of hello and good bye without ever feeling contrived or clichéd. That is why you will not remember what you did or when you got there or when you left. You will just remember how it felt, like a beautiful stone to rub when the world is not a beach.